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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26123011">film grain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinn_Oct/pseuds/Quinn_Oct'>Quinn_Oct</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Liar's Paradox [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Akechi Goro-centric, Canon Compliant, Gen, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Sorry, I'm using Ren in this, Inspired by a Mitski Song, Not Beta Read, POV Akechi Goro, Self-Loathing, and a dream, could be seen as shuake?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:27:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,982</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26123011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinn_Oct/pseuds/Quinn_Oct</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Amamiya holds his heart in his sleeve, trimmed with gold and precious stones. In-display for the world to see and to admire, scratched yet still shining brightly in a brilliant show of its value. Goro's is different, the antipode to the raven's purity. His was rusting copper locked away in a broken birdcage, black as charcoal with the sides withering away into disgusting flakes of iron inside his rib cage.</p><p>This was a dream I had because of Mitski's Washing Machine Heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Liar's Paradox [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>film grain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written in a whim, this is inspired by late-night conversations about Mitski and Goro Akechi, and the confusing sequence of events, as well as unfocused and jumbled thoughts are from a dream dreamt in a 70s filter.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Goro walked into the dainty shop in the back alley, two rows of washing machines filling the small space perceived from the clouded glass. With beaten sneakers rubbing against the welcome carpet out of habit, the teenager relaxed his posture when he realized that he was alone in the laundromat. Dropping the plastic on the tiled ground, he reached into his pockets for change, inserting them on the machine to open the circular door. He put his used clothes rather carelessly into the ivory contraption, his kneeling position moving with haste while stuffing one argyle sweater after another.</p><p> </p><p>The detective hated doing mundane tasks such as this, sitting and waiting only leaving him to the company of his thoughts. With a rather misanthropic view of the world, his rage simmers from the depths of his soul, waiting to resurface at any chance it could take. Given the opportunity to think, all of the self-hatred and wrath comes up like bile on his throat, overcoming him with emotion at the memory of the past. He hates it. He hates this forced self-reflection.</p><p> </p><p>A fleeting thought of homework, of case files, of mental shutdowns, Goro's mood just kept spiraling downwards with routine movement. After pressing the buttons for the machine, the teenager took a stool and sat right in front of the white cube, absentmindedly staring at the spinning vortex of colors swimming in bubbled waters. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>"Akechi?"</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>On reflex, Goro sat up straight, smiling pleasantly and politely while finding the source of the sound. His eyes met steel irises hiding behind a black mess from the other side of the glass window. <strong>"Oh, good evening, Amamiya."</strong></p><p> </p><p>The younger entered the small shop, sitting on top of one of the machines lined up that was facing the machine Goro activated. The newcomer sat further towards the wall, making his legs able to swing from the elevated position. With a side glance towards the detective, Amamiya took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with his shirt. <strong>"What are you doing here, Akechi?"</strong></p><p> </p><p><strong>"I happen to have forgotten that it's laundry day. Tonight's the only free time I have,"</strong> he sighed, <strong>"But apparently my fans found the laundromat I frequent, hence why I'm here in Yongen-Jaya."</strong> Amamiya tilted his head as he hummed in recognition, closing his eyes while relaxing on top of the washing machine. <strong>"Must suck that to be famous. You're lucky the laundromat here is hidden away."</strong> a smirk made its way to his face, mischievous eyes glinting in a teasing manner towards the detective. The detective smiled back, slightly more genuine than the million smiles he'd given. <strong>"I am, and I'm thankful you showed me this place before."</strong></p><p> </p><p>Amamiya opted to hum instead of verbally responding, enthralled by the rotation of the pieces of cloth inside the washing machine. Goro stared, the simmering rage coming up his throat shifting into the form of Leviathan with every passing moment, the silence of his mind, and the emptiness of the laundromat affecting his already weakened mental state. Being alone with the person he planned to kill, with the person he hates with an unreasonable and illogical fiber of his being brings him into a downward spiral.</p><p> </p><p><strong>"... and the wardrobe change?"</strong> Amamiya broke the silence, putting the glasses back on his face. Goro looked down on his outfit, gloveless hands emerging from the jacket pockets he wore, hood falling from the top of his head. The brunette held his head on his hand, arm, and elbow placed on top of the washing machine right next to his rival.</p><p> </p><p><strong>"I'm in disguise. It's laundry day."</strong> he chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>His rival's gaze lingered on him briefly, focusing on the denim of Goro's pants and the zipped up black of his old Jacket. Muted turquoise sneakers lay flat on the floor and his brown locks framing his face, neither styled nor disheveled; an everyday look of a civilian. Goro guesses that this is the most casual that Amamiya has seen him in, as that would explain the subtle surprise and amusement reflecting in the other's eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Even without speaking, Amamiya never had problems with getting his message across, and that just made Goro loathe him more.</p><p> </p><p>For the night, Goro detested the silence more than usual. <strong>"It suits you. I like this Akechi more than usual."</strong> Amamiya thankfully did not let the silence grow, offering Akechi a compliment that went past the detective's ear. The latter simply hums at the statement. With a sip of a can (one that Goro didn't even notice that Amamiya had), the raven put his hand right next to him, letting left arm support his body weight on top of the - oddly still not dented - washing machine. It was Goro's turn to observe.</p><p> </p><p>The teen had on his casual outfit: a black formal jacket on top of his white V-neck sweater, denim pants, and brown shoes. <em>'Amamiya's style is not that far off from formal.'</em> Goro thinks. A perfect blend of casual and formal, something decent yet stylish that can never go wrong with any occasion. It's these little things that fuel Goro's annoyance more, with the way how the other so effortlessly presents himself with grace and decency compared to the persona Goro perfected through the years.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing ever beats the natural.</p><p> </p><p><strong>"What about you, Amamiya? What are you doing outside this evening?"</strong> Goro asked after what seemed like an eternity of thinking, now realizing that what Amamiya wore was not the outfit of someone who did not intend to head home early and rest. The man in question finished his drink and threw it to the trash bin, shooting the can perfectly inside the plastic bin. With the nonchalant expression from Amamiya, Goro wonders how many times the raven did it to perfect the throw, or if he was just playing it off to look cool in front of the older. He scoffs at the idea.</p><p> </p><p><strong>"Keeping you company, of course."</strong> a chuckle from the detective and a beep from the washer responded his statement. <strong>"I have to go to Shinjuku later. I'm just spending time. Also,"</strong> He turned to Goro, face fully in frontal view for the other to see. <strong>"You looked really lonely and out of place there. Need an ear?"</strong></p><p> </p><p><strong>"I'm perfectly fine."</strong> Goro answers a little too quickly, losing his perfected television tone for a moment. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'I don't need your pity.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>"If you say so."</strong> Amamiya says, voice devoid of judgment and emotion, neither scrutinizing nor belittling. <strong>"I'm okay with sitting in silence."</strong></p><p> </p><p>He always knew when to stop and when to pry, creating an aura of kindness and approachability. Amamiya Ren is friendly, a silent comforting character with the confidence and strength of a leader. Goro hates it. Goro hates his kindness. A wish for more prying, for more questions, to interrogate him and might as well punch or hurt him - anything, any action Goro wishes the raven would do that would justify Goro's hatred for him.</p><p> </p><p>The friends, the kindness, the trust, the bonds his fellow wildcard formed over the course of a few months in Tokyo. He could not fathom how a delinquent with a criminal record be less lonely than he is. He could not fathom how someone so naive and vulnerable be as polished and precious as a diamond while the world brutally grazed and abrade his soul with cuts and bruises.</p><p> </p><p>Goro can see himself in Amamiya forever ago, yet why was he treated differently?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'Why is it unfair?'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amamiya holds his heart in his sleeve, trimmed with gold and precious stones. In-display for the world to see and to admire, scratched yet still shining brightly in a brilliant show of its value. Goro's is different, the antipode to the raven's purity. His was rusting copper locked away in a broken birdcage, black as charcoal with the sides withering away into disgusting flakes of iron inside his rib cage.</p><p> </p><p>Amamiya's is a jewel, reflecting the light and purity of the other's around him; Akechi's own is corroded, foul and stained that not even the strong detergents and soap could wash the scent away.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'Why?'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The vibration of a phone disturbed him from his thoughts, wine red subtly gaining focus to see Amamiya pick his phone from his pocket. There were no changes in the younger's face while he scrolls his messages, replacing the small teasing smile that he wore before the notification. Long legs stopped swinging, a final thump on the washing machine where Amamiya sat, swiftly jumping from the washing machine, Amamiya fixed the glasses on his head, removing the imaginary wrinkles of the fabric in his jacket.</p><p> </p><p><strong>"Leaving already?"</strong> Goro asked, donning his faux smile with his arm supporting his head, lips slightly turned up to one side. Amamiya smiled his usual smile, the gesture managing to give the detective an answer despite not exactly answering his question. The raven always had a unique way with communication, despite the non-expressive face and the silent tendencies, he can perfectly convey his thoughts with just actions alone - the honestly and transparency everything Goro was not. </p><p> </p><p>Goro sighed, a breath meant to be light-hearted escaping his lips. <strong>"Well, I thank you for your company, but I mustn't keep you from your responsibilities. Let's talk soon."</strong> Amamiya seemed to smile wider at that, mouthing a quick goodbye before leaving the laundromat, leaving Goro all alone.</p><p> </p><p>The brunette smile immediately dropped once the raven was out of sight, visibly showing signs of disgust at his own saccharine smile and polite tone. He hates everything, he hates him - the antithesis to his being. The bespectacled teen's pure kindness or stupidity to accompany his rival, waste meaningless time being friendly to his soon to be murderer, not that the leader of the Phantom Thieves would know. Two sides of the same coin yet he's the dirty end, he wonders if his hatred is because of his envy or knowledge that if they were ever likened to an idea, he would be the perversion.</p><p> </p><p>Ren Amamiya is the contradiction to everything he was: Amamiya was original, a classic beautifully aged to its natural sepia and soft vibrancy; Akechi was a fake copy, an imitated filter effect from a mediocre app modifying and damaging the source to get the outcome to be as close as possible to the original, but not quite. </p><p> </p><p>The phones are modern, well known, well-loved, yet why are the images captured still inferior to old film?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'Why am I inferior to you?'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A loud crisp ding resounded from the silent shop, the hypnotic spinning of the dryer slowly coming to a stop. Goro sat in the silence, staring at the blue light blinking back and forth. With his reverie disturbed, he took his plastic and opened the lid, stuffing his clean clothes inside. 'Folding be damned', the brunette thought, eyes gazing into the darkened evening sky. The night clouds darken and cluster together, flashing lights in the horizons above. The clouds look heavy, ready to rain on his way home.</p><p> </p><p><strong>"Can't even think in peace."</strong> Goro grumbled, <em>'The world sure was in favor of the kind-hearted heroes.'</em></p><p> </p><p>He walked away at the first drops of a rain shower, hood once again obscuring his face. Unlaced worn sneakers walk along the path of his ruin, dirtied strings dragging on the ground like his spirit being chained down to hell. Pastel turquoise faded and scratched, full of tears to the otherwise soft color.</p><p> </p><p>The leaden pavement consumed him gradually, filling his lungs with sickly mortar as well as bastardizing his mind with the pure poison meant to vitiate his morale. The world chaotically tilted to the side, his sight lopsided as everything distorted into a gargantuan size like Gulliver dangerously stepping into Liliput. Still, Goro walked on, ignoring the false images he knew was concocted by his twisted guilt and corrupted thoughts of self-pity.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'Why not me?'</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Blame user <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrichoor"> petrichoor </a> for this.<br/>I am not an Oikawa kinnie.</p><p>What's your move, Atsumu kinnie? :DD</p><p> </p><p>Feel free to talk to me on <a href="https://twitter.com/Quinn_Oct"> twt </a> !! :DD</p></blockquote></div></div>
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